John Reskind - Kappy

Ken sat confidently manipulating the controls of the luxurious vehicle, the anger he had felt when he left Jean quite diminished, his faith in their future warmly inspired by the morning sun and the fact of the limousine he drove, the latter warranting a multitude of eager eyes that somehow made him feel important.

"Park, darling," his mistress ordered and he did, standing nearby the auto until she returned a few minutes later.

"Where to, Mrs. Keele?" he asked in his very best modulated voice.

"The home, darling. We have things to do there, too," she answered warmly, the tone of her voice setting tingles along his spine.

"Yes ma'm," he managed, forcing himself to ignore the seductiveness in her words, concentrating on the streets ahead of him… and then he was there, parked in her private slot out of view of the main house, and she said: "I'd like for you to come up with me, Wilson. I have things for you to do for me."

"Yes ma'm," he replied awkwardly. "Yes ma'm…"

He followed obediently behind her through the bleak, gray corridors of the institution, aware of glancing young female inmates' eyes, as well as matrons', appraising him. They entered an elevator that took them to the fourth and top floor; it was then that Ken learned the lift was the only means to the superintendent's office and suite, a luxurious series of rooms that had undoubtedly been designed as living quarters for the home's top official. An ugly-faced, middle-aged woman in a matron's uniform sat behind a desk in the outer office and greeted the beautiful superintendent with a homely smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Keele."

"Seybor," the other responded briskly. "I won't want to be disturbed for the next couple of hours… I have some personal matters to attend to."

"Yes, ma'm."

"Kappy, you stay out here with Seybor," Maggie ordered the great dog and immediately he lay down beside the desk. "Come along, Wilson."

Ken heard the thick, heavy door lock behind him as he closed it, noting that there was no knob, only a security key-mechanism from which Mrs. Keele had taken the key, placing it in her purse.

"Well," she sighed, turning to him with a smile. "Home at last." She glanced around the plush living room with seeming content as she spoke. "I always feel so at ease here, Wilson… absolute privacy, security… what better working conditions could a girl ask for? Do you like it?"

"I-It's very nice, Mrs. Keele," Ken replied, surprised at her sudden altering of character, the crispy formalness she had borne all morning falling away like a discarded mantle; yet, not quite certain whether he approved of the unexpected change or not.

"So, make yourself comfortable while I slip into something loose and silky, dear," she invited, still smiling as she moved gracefully away from him toward an open doorway he surmised to be a bedroom. "I always work better when I'm comfortable, don't you? Take off your jacket and make us a couple of drinks while I change. The bar's right there to your left, and I'll have Scotch and water."

Ken could only stare after her in growing astonishment. Dear…! Dear…? Drinks…? Something loose and silky? Work better…? What the hell was going on here, anyway? What kind of work did she have in mind for Christ's sake…?

Maggie smiled to herself once inside the sensually appointed bedroom that she had redecorated in the wake of her predecessor with ample frills and strategically placed wall mirrors. In one of the latter and out of the corner of her eye, she could see him through the open doorway, still standing as she'd left him, an expression of obvious awe on his ruggedly handsome face. God, but he resembled her Daddy so much it was almost frightening… as well as damned exciting.

"Lots of ice, darling!" she called out to him without looking directly at his reflection in the mirror, while she wriggled out of her dress and half-slip, knowing that he was gaping at her as she carried on in her black bikini panties and wispy bra… shocked, no doubt, but certainly stimulated too by her unexpected actions… unless he was a hell of a lot less man than she'd watched on their TV the night before.

Along with these thoughts, other, more intricate and ambitious ones, fleeted through her mind enjoiningly. He could be the one… the necessary male assistant she needed to pull off her coup when the time came… though he was young and inexperienced, where Jack Heath, whom she had met not an hour before in Max's office, had the suave maturity, plus the educated mind the maneuvers were going to require… but as handsome and desirable as the young Mr. Heath was, he didn't resemble her Daddy, and the young darling in the next room mixing their drinks, did! Oh well, plenty of time for major decisions. First came the preliminaries, and they were just about to begin…

Ken stood behind the small bar, making their drinks and compulsively glancing through her open doorway, aware suddenly that her enticing near-naked reflection in the bedroom mirror was visible from damned close to every corner of the living room. In fact, if one sat on the davenport across from the bar he would have only to stare at the mirror on the wall beside him and enjoy the same view!

On second thought, he added a bit more Scotch to his own drink. If he ever needed the bracing effect of liquor, it was at that crazy moment! What the hell was she trying to pull, anyway…?

"There! Now, I feel more like myself," Maggie said, floating into the room with statuesque elegance and wearing a peach-colored, diaphanous, floor-length negligee that did absolutely nothing to hide the visibly delightful contours of her ivory-skinned body, the black wispy panties and bra adding a provocative note of sensual mystery to the apparition. "Drinks ready, Ken dear?"

He swallowed tightly, watching her glide to the davenport and fold down into one corner of it, her small feet drawn up beneath her. N-Now it was Ken dear! Goddamn! He had to put this beautiful siren straight, before things went any further… and there was no longer any doubt in his mind what she had clicking in that brain of hers… only this time she'd picked the wrong guy! He wasn't only a married man, but he loved his young wife Jeannie…!

"Well, darling…?" she prodded, ever smiling beautifully. "That is an odd look you're suddenly wearing. Do I shock you… or just stimulate you…?"

Ken felt his face flushing, aware suddenly that his cock was half-hard inside his pants, adding to his reasons for standing there behind the bar and hiding it. He held both glasses in his hands, but simply stood there staring at her, trying to think of what to say that could possibly end this incredible situation.

Her little laugh surprised him… frightened him, too, as he watched her move up off the davenport toward him, calmly taking the drinks from his hands, setting them on the bar, and drawing him around from behind it. She eased close to him then, her whole ravishing length of hot female body pressing tightly and hotly to him, her erect, pointed breasts flattening against his lower chest as her arms snaked around his neck and pelvis ground snugly into his.

Startled, Ken could neither breathe nor speak. Automatically, his hands closed on the velvety soft, jellied flesh at the small of her back, feeling the muscles ripple lightly beneath as a little tremor passed over her and her warm, moist lips planted themselves openly upon his own.

Eventually, she said: "How does that strike you for a beginning?"

Ken raised his head, half-sighing, half-gasping in confusion, but still holding her. "I-I… damn, Mrs. Keele… I-I don't know what you're trying to do… but-but you've got the wrong guy…!" he stammered awkwardly, feeling his hardening cock stirring responsively to the barely perceptive undulating motion of her pelvis and full, rounded thighs.